


Snapshots of Gavroche

by BirdieDell, WahtaOwl



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Acceptance, Gen, Various other gamin, early realizations, ftm gavroche, trans!gavroche
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 14:16:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13953354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdieDell/pseuds/BirdieDell, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahtaOwl/pseuds/WahtaOwl
Summary: A co-written collection of drabbles about Gavroche and gender.





	1. Streetball

**Author's Note:**

> Neither of us are trans so we hope we did okay with exploring this possibility for Gavroche. We welcome any feedback you have.

Isabelle Thenardier stood at the edge of the crowd of children, looking hesitantly around her. She wasn't used to other children. The Thenardiers kept their children away from the public for the most part. Isabelle herself had just learned to slip away from the crowded alleys of people whispering about gang fights and who looked like they had enough money that some of it wouldn't be missed.

“Isabelle!” a girl at the edge of the group called. Isabelle hurried over to her, hoping that maybe she could make friends with one of the other girls.

“We've got a copy of the latest Parisian fashions!”the girl squealed. 

“We may be too poor for a glove in the catalogue,” one of the other girls said, “but we can dream!”

Isabelle frowned. She didn't want to talk about dresses! They just interfered with her ability to run and climb around. 

The other girls pulled Isabelle along with them for awhile. From her point of view the girls never seemed to have any fun. Not what she considered fun anyway.

Isabelle stared longingly at the group of boys kicking a ball back and forth through the streets. That looked like much more fun than embroidery. 

There had always been something about being a girl that Isabelle never seemed to grasp. She knew it wasn't just about dresses and sewing and talking about boys, the things most of the older girls she saw in the streets favored. Her oldest sister Eponine was the toughest person Isabelle knew. Isabelle thought Eponine was even tougher than the branded men who came to their parents to talk about dangerous things.

Maybe it was that these new girls were so different than her rugged sisters. Eponine and Azelma would always play games with her to keep her away from their parents. They would let her be a boy during the games. Gavroche the Great. The mighty Gavroche would single – handedly defeat battalions, battle huge dragons, and rescue princesses from towers. Eponine and Azelma would take turns being the monsters “Gavroche” faced. They would even use male pronouns when Isabelle insisted.

Isabelle had never liked her name either. Her parents had named her it because it sounded pretty and sweet. Privately Isabelle thought it wasn't nearly daring enough. It always seemed boring beside Eponine and Azelma. That was why she always liked to be called Gavroche when she could. That fit better than any girls name she'd tried out. 

Maybe Isabelle could even slip away and join the ball game.


	2. Getting Dressed

Isabelle had been practicing running and kicking in skirts with his sisters and he felt he was ready to join a ball game. But there was one thing...

“Ponine?” Isabelle asked. “I want to play ball with the boys but... what if...”

“Are you worried that they won't want to play with a girl?” Éponine tried.

“I just don't feel like a girl!” Isabelle exclaimed, frowning. “My body is one way but I feel another way. It's scary Ponine!”

Éponine blinked. 

“Well,” she said slowly, “I could get you some trousers...”

Isabelle beamed. He was just small enough to still be seen as a boy if the hair and clothes looked like the kind others wore. Éponine was the best! 

“I'll be Gavroche! I've been practicing with you and Azelma so much they've got to be impressed! Thank you Ponine, thank you!” Isabelle exclaimed.


	3. Looking into the Mirror

Gavroche stood in front of a mirror. It was the first time in a while that he had looked at his reflection. He studied it intently.

Gavroche still wasn't old enough to develop curves like his sisters, but Éponine had asked around and promised to teach him to bind his chest when the time came. Azelma had stolen a knife from their parents and together she and Gavroche had hacked off over half of his hair. It still came down to his shoulders but he liked it a lot better this way. Éponine had made good on her promise to get him trousers and Gavroche had stolen a roughly made jacket from a clothes shop. Azelma had recruited Éponine to strenghthen the embroidery and stitches on it. 

Gavroche smiled. His sisters knew he was a he and supported him even if they sometimes still called him a girl. But he still needed to tell his parents and he was worried about that. Maybe he could ask his sisters. They were older and trusted with more freedom to do what they wanted.


	4. Telling Mom

Éponine rolled her eyes at her mother. “It's not a big deal. Besides, she said she was going to puke if even one more person called her 'Isabelle.' And then she threatened to punch me if I didn't call her 'Gavroche', even if I said it on accident.”

“She actually did punch me,” Azelma whined.

“Yeah, but that's because you hid her shoes. I'd punch you for that too.”

“His shoes,” Azelma corrected.

“You're right,” Éponine conceded. Azelma looked properly smug over that.

“Whatever,” said Madame Thénardier, dismissing her daughters with a wave. “As long as you have the northern streets covered during the Christmas fair you can all change your names to 'Jesus Puking Christ' for all I care. There's a lot of money on the streets for the next week or so, and almost none after that. I don't even want to see any of you kids hanging around here idle anyway, whether you're a girl, a boy, or something in between. Get going.”

Gavroche, who had been standing in the hallway with his arms crossed, pumped a fist in the air and darted out with his sisters, just pulling Azelma's braid enough to make her yelp as he skipped behind her.


	5. Navet Knows

Navet had understood all along.

“All us boys are going down to the courthouse! Some prisoners are being brought there for trial and Matthieu thinks he might see his dad.” Lucas had declared eagerly, bursting into the alley where Gavroche and Navet had been hiding behind a storage bin and throwing rocks at buggies.

Gavroche and Navet had jumped up at the chance to see prisoners getting roughed up by guards.

Lucas had gestured towards Gavroche with a questioning look. “Her, too?”

Navet had looked blank for a moment, and then seemed to understand what Lucas was asking.  
“Gavroche? Yeah, he's... yeah, he's coming.” 

Gavroche had balled his fist together and stomped one foot forwards towards Lucas, ready, but then relaxed when Lucas just shrugged and said, “All right.”

“I hope there's a fight!” one of the other boys exclaimed, and they all agreed with that.


	6. An Important Man

Gavroche was never going to make it to the Musain at this rate. He had taken the back alley in hopes he could avoid running into anyone he knew, but it turns out that Gavroche was rather well known in the darker, more obscure backroads of Paris. 

At least five people had stopped him as he ran by, shouting out a merry, “Gavroche! Just who I was looking for! I'll give you a couple sous if you could just...”. 

And how could Gavroche say no? He had to give all their pickpocketing treasures to his parents every night. And the extra money earned delivering letters, packages and messages around Paris helped him buy the things his parents never would—like chocolate buns and sausages for himself and Navet. 

Not that Gavroche couldn't just steal those things. He knew how to line his pockets with old newspapers so the grease from the sausages didn't drip too much into the lining of his coat. But it was good for the family business to occasionally be seen purchasing something with real money. It built trust. And it made Navet smile.

Plus, Gavroche was saving up for a real gun! Éponine would kill him if she found out.

Éponine was going to kill him anyway if he didn't get to the Musain by 6.

Gavroche had just delivered a letter to a Madame Heucheloup (his final errand) and was skidding in the back door of the Musain when he ran right into a tall man with golden hair and a red coat, nearly falling backwards and back out into the alley as a result.

“Careful there, son,” the man said, firmly grasping Gavroche's arm and pulling him upright. Then he gave Gavroche a pat on the head and started making his way up the back staircase.

Normally Gavroche would scowl at being patted on the head like a dog, but the man looked important, and had called him son, so Gavroche was inclined to like him. 

The man had also had a gun-shaped bulge at his side, so Gavroche admired him immediately. He just grinned at the man and then went to find his sister.


	7. Helping out the boys

Gavroche had been plotting to get to the upstairs room at the Musain for days, ever since he'd seen that fancy man in the red coat. That same man plus several of the man's friends went upstairs almost every afternoon, closing the door behind them and talking in deep important voices. Gavroche was naturally very curious and also wanted to have a closer look at the man's gun. 

He had offered to take a few drinks up for the bartender, who looked pretty overwhelmed with the rowdy downstairs customers anyway, but she'd laughed at him and said, “Sorry, sweetheart! Spirits and children don't mix.” And then she'd given him the end of a baguette with oil, which he scowled at when she was watching, but then scarfed down when she turned away.

He was shaking the crumbs off his shirtfront when a rumpled-looking man in a green coat stumbled in hefting a large box on his hip and approached the counter.

“Two bottles of your cheapest wine, my dear, and one of absinthe, plus a large glass,” the man said cheerily and leaned across the counter to kiss the bartender's cheek. She pushed him away but smiled and put the requested items in front of him. 

Gavroche watched the man grapple with the goods, crisscrossing the long necks of the wine bottles to try to get a better grip. The man neared the back staircase and raised his foot towards the first step when Gavroche appeared instantly in front of him, blocking the way.

“I can help,” he stated with his firmest tone and moved to take the bottles.

“All right, then,” the man smiled down at him and readjusted the other items.

Gavroche entered the room eagerly and because he was only eight after all, marched right up to the man in the red coat, pointed directly at the bulge at his side, and said with the same angelic smile he saved for requesting a puff from his father's pipe, “Can I have a look at your gun?”

It was only then that Gavroche realized the man had been addressing a group of other men sitting at little tables scattered around the room, all of whom now laughed.

“Come on, Enjolras!” chuckled a man with tousled dark hair and twinkling eyes. “Let the little boy have a look! A future recruit, I'm sure!”

But this Enjolras-fellow just frowned and fumed, “Who gave this child wine?” while plucking the two bottles directly out of Gavroche's hands. “Grantaire, of course. Why am I not surprised?” he continued when the man in the green coat reached out to retrieve the bottles.

Grantaire smirked. “I finished painting your posters, oh fearless Leader. I'm sure you can find some devoted soul here to bring them around town for you while I enjoy a refreshing drink.” He was already coaxing the cork from the first bottle and took a long swig from it without need for the glass. 

Enjolras muttered something disapproving while he plucked a paper from the box Grantaire had put in front of him. His face relaxed into something soft as he inspected the image, then tensed back into an authoritarian scowl as he pronounced it, “A satisfactory effort, Grantaire. Now, who can run these around town? It is important that they go up tonight.” 

There was some murmuring around the tables and talk of, “but I have class early tomorrow,” and “my medical group is examining a body,” before Gavroche spoke up boldly. “I'll do it!” he said. “But you'll have to pay me for my work.”

It was a good enough arrangement. Enjolras gave him a steady look as he handed over a handful of coins plus the box.

“You can manage yourself okay on the streets?” he asked Gavroche, who nodded. “Yes, my sisters taught me to fight.” Enjolras accepted this explanation with a nod and added another coin to the pile, as if recognizing the worth of a street smart child.

“Come back after,” he said and Gavroche was out the door as fast as he could run.


	8. Perhaps a gun?

Gavroche returned to the Musain every few days and soon earned enough coins running errands for the young students to finally feel comfortable asking about a gun. Enjolras seemed to be in charge of distributing such goods, so Gavroche waylaid him before one of the meetings.

“Enjolras,” he started with as much confidence as he could muster. “I'd like to talk to you about a gun.” And here he plucked down a cloth bag, heavy with coins. There was a pause from Enjolras and Gavroche sucked in a breath and raised both eyebrows in anticipation while he waited for a response.

“I can see that you are very brave,” Enjolras finally said, putting down his pen. “And ready to take on more responsibility. But you must understand, you're still a child. Now, don't huff like that! Just listen! We can't go giving guns to children. We are trying to make a world where children won't even feel the desire for guns! And you can help with that. You surely can. You can help by learning to read and write.”

Gavroche did not look particularly thrilled with this idea. 

Enjolras sighed and continued. “And here, I want to give you my pen. It's a good one. You won't find one like this just anywhere. And I'm going to teach you three very powerful words first.” 

Here Enjolras ripped a paper from his notebook and in curly beautiful script penned the words Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité. Enjolras then rolled the paper into a small tube and secured it with a small piece of cord from the binding of one of his books. He handed it to Gavroche almost ceremonially with the admonishment to, “Keep this safe, Gavroche.”

Gavroche nodded and took the paper.

“I'm asking again in a month, you know,” he said.

“I know, Gavroche,” Enjolras replied.


	9. Combeferre Gets It

When Gavroche walked into the Musain that afternoon it was to an angry Enjolras lecturing the man in green who Gavroche remembered as Grantaire.

“What's going on?” he asked the

Combeferre placed a couple biscuits on a plate along with a wedge of cheese and a persimmon. He placed this in front of Gavroche along with a cup of tea. Then he took his own cup of tea and settled into his chair comfortably and gave Gavroche an expectant look.

“Soooo,” he said when Gavroche stayed silent. “You said you had a question for me? As a doctor? Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Well, everything is okay for now, but....well, I've heard that in a few years..when I'm Azelma's age...things will start to happen, and...Well, my sisters said...um, something about...I don't know how to say this really.” 

Gavroche was floundering and he hated himself for it. He had practiced this! And where were the words now? Finally, he just blurted it out in the same manner as when he'd pushed a friend into the river one day as a prank, that is to say, all at once without thinking ahead. 

“I don't want to do the blood part. It doesn't seem right. Not for me. I mean, Éponine gets along with it okay. And when Azelma's day came, she was just mad it was on a day she wanted to go swimming with her friends, but she was okay with it otherwise. But I've never been like them, not exactly. And I just need to know—is there any way around it? Does it have to happen at all?”

Combeferre's face went through a whole range of expressions as he listened. First, a soft reassuring fatherly smile, then a look of surprise, then a wrinkled forehead of a man probing a difficult question, then an open look as he considered a new angle, followed by a tightening of the lips as he further considered how to respond.

“Gavroche,” he said finally. “Are you..have you always been a boy?”

Gavroche's response: “I feel like I've always been a boy, but...” was so soft and slightly hoarse that Combeferre almost couldn't make it out. Gavroche didn't look up as he added, “But my body...it doesn't match.”

Combeferre nodded and then patted Gavroche's hand. “I see. This happens sometimes.” He paused and closed his eyes for a moment before continuing, “I'm not sure there's a way around the blood part yet. There may be a tea to make it...less? I'll look into it. I still think you have a couple years though, if that helps at all.”

“A couple years then for you to figure something out!” Gavroche said. “You're so smart. I'm sure you'll find something in all those big books of yours.” Gavroche picked up a biscuit and put it in his pocket.

Combeferre smiled. “I'll do my best, Gavroche.”


End file.
